


I'm No Angel

by 2FarGone



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-12-27 12:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21118622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2FarGone/pseuds/2FarGone
Summary: Steve is in a bad place.  Drawn to something he knows isn't right he can't help himself.  The heroic leader of Five-0 is human after all and takes a walk on the wild side with the personification of sin.





	1. Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> This was written some time ago for another fan fiction site. I've cleaned it up and perhaps added a bit more of an edge to it though nothing explicit. The word 'terrasse' is Quebecois for 'terrace'. It's used as a term for cold weather in the French dialect of Quebec. Apologies to its citizens if I haven't used it correctly. In any case, I hope you'll enjoy this story and let me know what you think of the effort.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is burnt out. While attempting to escape what haunts him he meets a woman who may or may not be a balm to his unsettled spirit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word 'terrasse' is Quebecoise for 'terrace'. Quebecoise refers to an inhabitant of Quebec Province in Canada and their regional French dialect.

_Sometimes it was a tidal wave; a wall of water that would crash ashore to tumble him into darkness. There was no way to hold it back._

_He'd tried._

_And, despite the hands that reached out to keep him from being swept away, they couldn’t save him. He'd fight the black waters; hold his breath until his body screamed for oxygen, for light, but it was never long enough._

_Then he drowned._

_Drowned in the violence of which human beings are capable._

_Drowned in the blood of the innocent stalked by monsters who saw purity then were compelled to destroy it. _

_Drowned by the very relentlessness of evil._

_Though most of this mayhem was deliberate, sometimes it was merely random; a wrong-place-wrong-time happenstance where a stray bullet or speeding vehicle left a void no other could fill. In the wakes of these missiles swelled a chorus of loss and abandonment from those left behind._

_He'd come to realize the futility of trying protect the ones who may have been doomed from the moment they drew their first breaths. They were destined to be murdered, maimed, or damaged irreversibly. Despite his training and skills, despite his struggle to prevent the inevitable, fate would take its toll._

_Failure would become his reality and a darkness no light could penetrate would close around him._

_That’s when the word ‘classified’ would fall from his lips. He'd smile, lie to friends who knew there could be no questions, sling his duffle over his shoulder, and stride out the door._

**. . . . . . .**

The day is bright and the air cool and crisp. Like celestial sailing ships, clouds glide between earth and sun while intermittent shadows play over what lay below.

'Pacific' means peaceful but the name is misleading. Though it's the same ocean surrounding the islands of home, it seems more ominous from this side of it; its waves more likely to snatch the unwary from casual strolls along the strand.

In relentless surges and ebbs the misnamed ocean rolled under the pier, its waves dashing themselves against barnacle clad pilings. Their power would jolt upward through the planks on which he stood to reverberate through his body.

He usually finds solace in the sea but at this moment, as he gazes at the agitated expanse, he finds no serenity in it or himself. The menace of its blue depths seems somehow appropriate.

**. . . . . . .**

The sun is shining but the wind is cold off the water. Her dark eyes fasten on a figure in the distance as she huddles further into her jacket.

He stands at the end of the boardwalk, gazing out at the horizon. Like a sail, the hood of his navy-blue windbreaker intermittently catches in the wind and flaps about behind his bare head. She can’t clearly make out his features but his hair is dark and neatly cropped. He appears athletically trim beneath clothing that flattens against his body with each brisk gust. She reminds herself that she's in San Diego so chances are he's military.

She takes another sip of her cocoa. Today is a lazy one and people watching entertains her. She’s gotten good at reading them. Perhaps she can divine their secrets without ever having to interact. That would be nice. She always strives to hone the talent that serves her well when setting up a job. The new one starts in a couple of days. After it’s complete she’ll be financially set for several months before it will be necessary to take on another.

The beginning day’s unusually low temperature is too chilly for children to be wandering about. Only those with the most haphazard parenting skills would drag the brats out in this weather.

At this hour on a Saturday morning the state’s native born would more likely be snuggled in their beds rather than be wandering about in what other parts of the world would consider mild winter weather.

For Californians though it's positively frigid. The hardy souls here this morning are most likely transplants from somewhere else. She smiles at the thought that the natives of 'The Golden State, whose usual winter wear consists of board shorts, parkas, and flip-flops would literally be freezing their asses off if they were in Canada. It’s not terrasse season there. Right now in Quebec City it’s twenty degrees Fahrenheit.

He's moving now. With long, confident, strides the lone man walks toward the concession stand a few yards away. At the take-out window she hears him request an espresso, smiling as he does so.

_Nice smile._

After paying and dropping a tip into the slotted coffee can beside the window he moves further down the counter to wait for his order. Arms crossed over chest and hips canted so that his weight rests on one leg he leans back against the weathered wood. He appears relaxed but his eyes are warily evaluating his surroundings.

She recognizes it . . . the way one would search for hidden dangers and plan out escape routes. Perhaps there is more to this guy than what's pictured on the outside of the pretty box?

The barista calls out to him and he steps back to the window. He's handed a steaming cup and he thanks her with a nod and brief grin. He turns and stands for a moment, eyes searching the surprisingly crowded area offering seating to patrons of the pier's food vendors.

The Opal Pier is busy today despite the weather. A popular local attraction, its hotel is always booked months in advance. Though she had no previous arrangement, she'd managed to 'finesse' a couple nights lodging from a recent acquaintance – the hotel's reservations manager. Her lodging is only a studio cottage but it's at the very western end of the row of little white-painted wooden cabins perched over the water. It even has its own deck.

She watches as he cranes his neck to look for a vacant seat but, finding none, he shrugs to himself and starts to walk away.

"You need a place to sit?" she asks as he comes abreast where she sits.

He halts and long lashed hazel-blue eyes fasten on her. With brow quirked he says, "You mind?"

"Not at all. It's pretty crowded today. I'll share." She gestures to the other side of the small table.

"Thanks." he replies as he sets his cup onto the peeling wood and steps over the attached bench to sit opposite her.

He smiles again. It’s like a sunrise.

**. . . . . . .**

As their day had been crisp and cold, their night is warm and humid. Need entwines with need as bodies writhe, coiling around one another like serpents; skin sliding on sweat-slick skin; breaths mingling in cries panted into the darkness.

**. . . . . . .**

Dawn found them lying half-awake; quietly enjoying the warmth of one another's sated bodies. The electrical current that had hummed beneath their skins into the long night had finally been switched off. Only a drowsy peace remained.

A glance at a bedside clock signaled an abrupt end to their languor. Covers were thrown off, discarded clothing located, hasty clean-ups completed and then with one last grin, he was out the door.

Standing at the small bay window of cottage number 6, she watches as he disappears down the boardwalk and around the corner. Is the swagger a comment on their evening or just the way he moves?

**. . . . . . .**

**Six months later:**

Steve sighed and rubbed gritty eyes. He and the team are exhausted. Despite giving it all they had; the kid is still dead. They'd only been able to provide her parents a body to bury.

Even though the ten-year-old had been missing for nearly a week; her distraught mother and father had held out hope.

_ _Yeah, _ _ _he thought bitterly _ _as he curled his lip at the platitude he’d come to loath_ _, _ _ _There’s _ _ _ _always hope_ _ _._

But he’d failed.

Over three days and nights his team had been relentless in their search. But no matter what effort was put forth, no matter how desperately one clung to the belief the victim would be found alive, it had all been for naught.

_They’d caught the bastard suspected of abducting her and a_ _fter an hour of 'persuasion' in the blue room _ _he’d_ _ finally confessed and _ _told them where to look_ _. Eliana Moore had been found in the Ewa Forest beneath a hollowed out log – her grave marker._

They'd later learned Eliana had been killed shortly after her disappearance. The time between the call from HPD to ask Five-0 for their assistance and the moment the kidnapper had ended her life had been only a mere two hours.

It wasn’t a surprise. Though he hadn't said it, from the moment Five-0 had gotten the call, he’d had the feeling it was hopeless. Their entire week had been a series of only half-successful resolutions at most; none of them turning out ideally – none of them without casualties.

For her parents there was only unimaginable grief. For the searchers there was, at best, a hollow and inadequate victory. Though the perpetrator had been apprehended Hawaii has no death penalty. The tepid consolation is that he’d never again see the light of day outside a prison.

Lost in his dark musing, Five-0's leader didn't see the one standing at his doorway, keys dangling from fingers and an expectant expression on his stubbled face.

"You coming?" asked Danny.

Steve looked up at the man whose appearance reflected how he himself felt. Red-rimmed eyes and a less than perfect coif testified to exhaustion – both physical and mental.

"We're all half-dead, D. "It's not like we saved anyone anyway. Why don't we put-off the case closed get-together?" _It certainly can’t be called a celebratio__n,_ he’d already told himself.

Understanding his partner's frame of mind, Danny replied perhaps a bit too forcefully, "We CANT save everyone. You _know_ that, Steven!" The compact detective tiredly rubbed a hand over his face then took a step closer to say in a quieter voice, "But who knows how many more kids would have been killed if we hadn't caught him?" It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as well.

"Yeah, it's just that . . ." Steve's voice trailed off before he shrugged and let out a long exhale. "Okay. I guess we shouldn't disappoint the others." Closing his laptop he gathered up his belongings to follow Danny out the door.

. . . . . . .

The case closed get together at their usual watering hole was glum - more a wake than recognition of a job well done. Kono drank with purpose; her plan to numb herself then go home and crawl into bed and stay there until the next millennium. Even the thought of her usual routine after a tough case - catching a few waves - didn't appeal to her. This one had kicked her ass . . . and her soul.

Chin felt much the same though he knew he was destined to be his baby cousin's designated driver this evening. He nursed a lone beer for most of the night as he waited for Kono to give-in to her fatigue and call it quits. He had no one to go home to so it was just as well that he stay a while longer. The saying that misery loves company never seemed more appropriate.

Danny sipped lightly because he had to take Charlie to a classmate's birthday party tomorrow. Its attendees would be a herd of kids hyped-up on sugar and egged on by their like-minded companions. As an added delight, there's a bouncy castle! Being there while hungover would be pure hell.

An additional reason for Five-0's second in command to refrain from getting plowed is that its leader looked like hell before they'd even arrived at the bar. Danny reasoned it may be best to stay sober enough to keep an eye on the idiot.

Lou said, (rather unenthusiastically), that tomorrow he has a date requiring his full, un-hungover, attention. He's supposed to take Renee out to celebrate twenty-two years of wedded bliss so he too has to imbibe on a conservative level. Their anniversary outing was to involve some sort of touristy brunch cruise and then an evening luau at the Hilton. His woman would have words for him if he wasn't fully 'there'. No matter how much he desired the tranquility to be achieved per a prescription written by Dr. Jack Daniels, it wasn't worth the risk of his beloved's wrath.

Steve had no such restrictions. If Catherine was still around, he'd probably cut back on the liquid mood modifier but she wasn't. His 'thing' with Lynn was kind of hit and miss. They'd come to the understanding that theirs was an exclusive relationship but he knew it wasn't a forever one. They hadn't actually talked about a future together but he knew she wasn't 'the one'. He had no desire to risk his heart again. In any case, he was unencumbered for several more days. She'd gone to the mainland for a month-long family visit and wasn't due back for another week. __She must really like her family__, he'd thought before adding, __Well, at least she ____has____a family.__

Danny surreptitiously glanced at his partner throughout the evening. Steve wasn't usually a heavy drinker, certainly not the hard stuff, but he'd already put away several shots and was working on another. He and Kono, courtesy of Mr. Cuervo, seemed on their way to drinking one another under the table. The two on the team who are most alike also seem to be seeking respite from their demons at the same rate and speed. __At least neither of the idiots will be behind the wheel tonight___,_ thought both Chin and Danny.

As Steve tilted the shot glass back to take a swallow, his eyes suddenly became round. Danny turned to peer in the direction his partner had been facing to see what could have caused the reaction. Across the large room he saw a tall woman with short dark hair in process of seating herself at a table against the wall. She folded gracefully onto a chair and smiled up at the waitress who'd immediately appeared to take her drink order.

Danny turned back to Steve who'd set his glass down to gaze blearily at the newcomer.

"Steve?" he asked as his partner continued to stare at the woman on the other side of the room. The restaurant's lounge was becoming crowded; the noise level rising accordingly. Perhaps he hadn't heard him?

"Steve?" repeated Danny. Again no response. He waved a hand in front of his partner's face to get his attention. "Earth to Steve." he sing-songed.

"Huh?" asked Five-0's leader as he averted his gaze from the mystery woman to fasten glazed eyes on the man who is now annoyingly snapping fingers in his face.

Finally having succeeded in getting his partner's attention, Danny asked, "You see someone you know?"

With a shrug Steve replied, "No, um, just someone who looks sort of familiar. It's not them. No one I know."

Though unconvinced, Danny nodded.

"Hey boss!" slurred Kono who'd noted her leader's distraction as well, "Maybe you should go introduce yourself. She's hot! You should hit that."

Chin frowned at her words. Maybe it's time to haul Kono’s ass home. His cousin could get a little rowdy when she'd been drinking. He'd certainly pulled her out of less favorable situations when she was younger.

Steve only snorted a response and picked up his glass again.

The Hawaiian woman apparently wasn't done yet. "Ya know tha 'thing' you have with Lynn?" said the team's youngest and only female member who’d set down her own shot glass to actually make air quotes. "Iss nah goin’ anywhere, brah. We can _all_ see that yur nah that inta her."

"I like Lynn!" Five-0's leader protested - perhaps a bit too strongly. But he'd taken a half second too long and it hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Yeah, __like__", "Thass the wrong 'L' word, yur usin' there, brah."

"Time to go home, Cuz." announced Chin as he stood to address the one in process of losing the unofficial drinking contest.

He’d put his hands on Kono's shoulders - signal for her to stand as well but she brushed his hands away and protested, "Nah, iss still early!" Addressing Steve once again she said, "Lynn's nice but she's nah, ya know, Catherine. Now __tha __woman had you comin' an’ goin' but I bet mostly . . ."

Danny nearly choked on the beer he'd been sipping.

Chin didn't let her complete the sentence. "Okay, that's it, Water Woman!" he announced as he put his hands under her arms and pulled her upward. "I've gotta get you home before this turns into something that's going to require bail money."

"I'm bettin' on Kono." chuckled Lou as Chin frowned a '_Don't encourage her' _at him.

Steve was silent as he blinked at his obviously inebriated teammate. Kono had hit it on the head. _Lynn isn't Cath. _After a couple of beats he said calmly, "Yeah, maybe it’s time for Kono to go home and get some rest."

He didn't sound angry. He didn't sound anything.


	2. Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve once again succumbs to the charms of a mysterious woman. Afterward, he'd straggled into the office with something more than just tats showing on his skin. Danny is burning to know what/who is distracting his usually non-distractable partner. Then the murder of a well-to-do crony of the Governor turns up another kind of heat.

Marie spotted him as soon as she sat down. He shouldn't have even been that memorable . . . but he was. Her one-night-stands were just a way to relieve tension; the kind she always felt before a job. Luckily, the tall, tattooed sailor had proven to be just the ticket to help her 'relax'. But, despite their time between the sheets, they were barely more than strangers. The only thing she'd learned about him then was that he was Navy. The only thing he'd learned about her was that she gave as good as she got.

Tonight she learned two additional things. The first was that his name is Steven. She'd heard the little blonde guy call him that when they’d bickered. But the second thing was perhaps a bit startling. The people he'd been drinking with were obviously law enforcement. They had that self-assurance and stance that marked them as such. To a lot of people, (particularly those who found themselves outside the boundaries of legality), their profession was easily apparent even though they wore no uniforms. This bunch may as well have had a big neon sign above their table, with a blinking arrow pointing downward and the saying 'Here Be Cops'.

As she sat waiting for her drink, her fingertips traced a pattern on the surface beneath them as though outlining an invisible design. Alas, instead of warm skin stretched over rippling muscle, she felt only the cool smooth laminate of the tabletop. _S_he smiled to herself, __Talk about sense memory___ . . . _

Pleasant as their first meeting had been, it was a mere reciprocal transaction; a trading of flesh for comfort. It was immediate and intense; even a little desperate. But whatever it was, it certainly wasn't love; it wasn't even affection.

"So . . ." said the one she now knows as Steven. He'd ambled up to her table to stand looking down at her; a crooked smile on his face. His friends had apparently left him behind.

There’s no way she could deny knowing him. They'd practically crawled beneath one another's skins that night at the cottage on the pier. Some things were as indelible as that ink that decorated the man's muscled arms.

She smiled up at him. "Hey, sailor. You want to sit down and have a drink with me?"

In answer, he pulled out the chair across from her and folded himself gracefully onto it. The glassiness of the hazel eyes featuring an awning of lashes most women would envy could indicate a lack of sobriety but there was no wobble in his movements.

"Though it's a pleasant surprise, I certainly never expected to see you here . . . or anywhere for that matter." he chuckled. "What brings you to our rock in the middle of the Pacific?" Turning to look over his shoulder, he beckoned their waitress.

"Just a bit of work. I'm not staying long." she smiled. "What are you doing here? I noticed you were with a group but it seems they've abandoned you."

"Just some work colleagues. We were celebrating the end of an assignment."

"Kind of a subdued celebration." she observed, "You all look exhausted; must be a stressful job."

"It can be." he responded cryptically. "But come to think of it, at our last meeting, we didn't discuss what kind of work either of us did. I guess we were maybe a little distracted at the time."

"Yeah, __distracted__. I could go with that.", she smirked as she once again picked up her drink. He seemed reluctant to give her further information regarding his occupation. That's okay. She'd be no more forthcoming about her own. If she was, she'd have to lie.

Her dark eyes peered coyly over the rim of her glass as she sipped. Perhaps she should at least ask; "So, what is it that you do? I know you're Navy but I don't know what it is that you do for your country."

"_My _country?" he asked, "So, I guess that means that you're not necessarily from the U.S.?"

Her response was only a mysterious smile. She left the question unanswered; her nearly black eyes crinkling at the corners.

When she remained silent he could have let it go but didn't. Here is a mystery to solve. He’s good at mysteries. "From that very, very, slight accent and a liking for La Fin Du Mond ale, I'd say you are maybe French Canadian?"

She was surprised. Not many people would ever guess she was from anywhere but the U.S. She'd have to be more careful. Perhaps she'd have to change her choice of alcohol.

Knowing he'd guessed correctly, his companion's eyes having widened almost imperceptibly, he asked, "Où as tu grandi?"

"Okay, you got me." she laughed, "To answer your question, I grew up in Quebec."

"Nice." he replied as the busy waitress finally headed to their table.

"Yeah, if you like snow." she snorted, "It's a little too cold for me these days . . . at least in winter."

"Well, you're in a good place if you don't like the cold; a bad place if you don’t like heat and humidity or don't like getting rained on."

"I don't mind a little rain. And I really like the heat." Trailing a finger down the side of her glass she caught a drop of condensation and bought it to her lips. Looking at him through her own thick lashes she purred, "You think we can make it a little warmer?"

**. . . . . . .**

  


Whether want or need it didn't matter. It was some sort of strange addiction he was powerless to deny. At this moment, his world consisted of nothing other than her feel, her scent, her taste.

She threw back her head and gasped as teeth and lips claimed a trail along her throat to her collarbone then further down her writhing body.

Once again the demons receded from all awareness. All thought was driven away as strong thighs wrapped around his hips to draw him to her.

It still wasn't love but, for tonight, it would do.

**. . . . . . .**

  


Danny yawned and stretched, his chair creaking as he blinked against the morning light pouring through the blinds to stripe the floor of his office. The supposed monsoon had capriciously veered off in another direction, leaving only suffocating humidity.

"Jeesus, Hawaiian weather sucks." he muttered as he flipped open his laptop and fired it up. Waiting for it to fully boot, his mind wandered back to the Saturday night case-closed get together.

In the end, everyone had followed their scripts. Chin had driven Kono home before there were any consequences for giving 'dating' advice to her boss. Lou had made it home to the loving arms of his wife before she called to remind him to behave himself. And, despite misgivings at leaving his friend to his own devices, Danny had gone home to get some sleep to fortify himself against the ungodly hell of thirty screaming rugrats and a bouncy castle. He'd been hoping the storm now predicted for tomorrow evening would arrive early and cancel the event but, in horror, had realized inclement weather would only trap him indoors with the little hellions. Even sans inflatable architecture he'd be screwed. There was truly no mercy in this world.

He'd reluctantly left Steve drinking at the bar; his partner having assured him for the hundredth time that, though admittedly sloshed, he was perfectly capable of calling a cab to get home. Johnny, the usual bartender at the hotel's lounge wasn't on duty that night or he'd have been a bit more confident leaving his friend to his own inebriated devices.

In hopes of confirming Steve had made it home in one piece he'd even tried to call him yesterday but there'd been no answer, it rolled over to voicemail after only three rings. He'd actually left several messages with no call back. But just before panic set in, Steve had texted him that all was well and that he wouldn't be in cell range for the rest of the day. Danny assumed that meant he was doing what he usually did to wind-down – hike into the wilds of Oahu. He certainly needed some down time. His partner’s normally even temperament had become a little spiky lately.

Though unlikely there was also another possibility for Steve’s incommunicado status. The detective recalled walking toward the exit and taking a glance at the woman who'd seemed to mightily distract his friend. She sat sipping from a Pilsner glass; its contents having been poured from a bottle that sat at her elbow. He didn't recognize the label.

She was what some called a 'handsome' woman; features strong and unadorned by layers of cosmetics. Her legs looked miles long in the short skirt she wore. She was probably nearly as tall as Steve but it was hard to tell unless he saw her actually standing. By the time he'd reached the exit he'd decided that, though perhaps not in a traditional way, the woman was quite beautiful. He couldn't blame his partner for being so distracted.

But from Danny’s observations over the years they’d been partnered, Steve had never been one to wander despite what had to be countless invitations to do so. As far as he knew, the guy had never strayed during a year's long previous relationship so it was unlikely that he'd be stepping out on the current one. Neither his Lynn nor Catherine before her had any idea what/who their man had fended off to remain steadfastly loyal.

Still, there was an alarm bell clanging at the back of his mind. He and Steve hadn't worked together for this long without learning one another's tells. Along with that flash of recognition that crossed his face when Steve had first seen the mystery woman, there'd been something else as well. Maybe that was what had prompted the remark from Kono. Even while more than half-in-the-bag she’d seen something as well. Women are scary sometimes. He knew he could never hide anything from his ex.

He also knew that his friend was very good, (at times disturbingly so), at employing deception to achieve his goals. Though there was usually no worry this talent would be used to cause anyone harm - at least no one who didn't deserve it – the man could lie like a politician running for office. He was one of the best at deflecting questions he didn’t want to answer.

And speaking of intuition and deception; Danny had long had the feeling the SEAL's random covert assignments weren't as alluded. He was pretty sure his secretive partner had slapped on the hated 'classified' label to keep him from asking any questions. The guy could be doing anything out there and they'd never discover what he'd been up to unless he chose to tell them or he wound up dead and someone detailed the cause of his demise in some kind of report. Fat chance there as well.

Occasionally, (he told himself it was out of concern for Steve's safety), Danny would press for more but the only response he'd get would be a hard look down an aquiline nose. Were he a lesser man, (or one not familiar with the bullshit tactic), he'd have been intimidated.

Five-0's commander could be a right bastard when he wanted to be. Everyone from the janitor all the way to the governor knew it. That hard-assed rep wasn't just for show; it had been earned.

When in SEAL mode Steve can be downright terrifying. Danny himself had witnessed the quiet savagery of which his partner is capable. Anyone who dared cause harm to those he was sworn to protect were in mortal danger.

When McGarrett's house had been the scene of a battle to protect the dictator of a foreign country several years ago, Kono had related what she'd witnessed: McGarrett had intercepted an attacker she wasn't aware had crept up behind her. He'd silently swiped a blade across the man's throat then let the body drop and stepped over it.

Though her boss had been protecting her, his cold efficiency at dispatching an enemy had greatly affected their rookie. It was a side of him she hadn't seen before. She'd described Steve’s eyes as having been as blank and expressionless as a snake's.

Danny wondered if it would bother her as much now that their rookie is a seasoned veteran. The woman had become nearly as lethal as her boss. Steve had trained her well.

He sighed at the ongoing mystery of the man he regarded as a brother but may never fully know. Perhaps there's a lot to Steve that his ohana may never see - and maybe it's just as well. He's not giving up though. It may take a while but Detective Daniel Williams has no doubt he'll someday figure this one out. The man could run but he couldn't hide - not for long anyway.

After another twenty minutes the missing man himself straggled in only seconds before Five-0's workday was to officially begin. It was unusual for him to be this 'late'. Steve was almost always at his desk when the rest of his team arrived in the mornings.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Danny, "After that one text I didn't hear from you again and you never returned my calls. When you got back from being outta range you coulda at least called to let me know you were still alive."

Steve paused only to silently smirk at him before disappearing down the hallway to see if anyone had made coffee which, at this point, is medicinal. Caffeine was definitely needed to combat the feeling that he'd run a fast 10K with a sixty-pound pack. He ached all over.

His bed mate had been gone by the time he'd awakened; having left a note to say that she had to go to work. She wrote that she'd had a great time, (the word 'great' all in caps which made him smile), and that perhaps they could get together again in the next few days. The name she signed at the bottom of her missive was 'Marie'.

But when he'd gone to shower he'd been startled by the visual evidence of their energetic evening. In the giant mirror over the hotel's marble sink, he could see that his skin was littered with bruises – some in the shape of teeth – and there were even places where skin had been broken. He'd have to avoid taking off his shirt in front of anyone for the next several days. The marks would be fodder for speculation if not outright derision. He certainly had no desire to explain their origin.

Danny had followed him into the break room ostensibly to get another cup of coffee; making it a point to mention that Kono had brewed it. Little did their leader know that his team was unanimous in their opinion of his skill at brewing Five-0's life's blood. How anyone could produce such undrinkable sludge from such a wondrous device was a mystery to them.

As reward for recovering a local coffee grower's kidnapped son, Five-0 had been gifted with the Rolls Royce of coffee/espresso makers. The thankful father had donated the expensive apparatus to the Governor's Special Task Force along with another such device to HPD. To be sure, this latest in high-tech coffee makers, (in the hands of anyone other than Commander Steven J. McGarrett), produced a magnificent cup of the magic elixir.

For a state agency to accept such a gift, official permission was required. When they'd gotten the paperwork signifying the donation was Kosher, it had listed the full retail price of the 'brewing system'.

HPD had given it glowing reports; saying they'd have to 'up their doughnut game' in honor of such a wondrous device but in Lou Grover's loudly stated opinion: "No damned kitchen appliance should cost that much unless it irons your shirts, washes your car, and gives you a massage . . . with a happy damned ending!" Of course he'd edited that last part because Kono was standing there but he needn't have bothered. Five-0's female officer was no shrinking violet and she'd totally concurred about the happy ending.

Stereotypes aside, Kono really did know how to make a good pot of coffee. Steve had no idea what her secret is but it was heaven as the liquid warmed him from inside. Despite the weather being unusually warm even for Hawaii, any heat left in his body after last night was only residual. Right now, his skin only felt clammy in the heavy mugginess.

"So, uh. You get some Barry White last night?" smirked Danny, reaching for the pot to refill his own cup.

"What makes you think that?" asked Steve, trying to sound more casual than vexed at having been busted for his extracurricular activities. The little bastard is an annoyingly good detective.

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe it's because you look like you haven't slept in a week, you're moving slower than your usual ninety-miles-an-hour, you've got on the clothes I know you were wearing when last I saw you and, oh yeah . . . you've got a giant hickey on your neck."

"Crap!" muttered Steve, hand automatically pulling the collar of his overshirt a little closer. He'd vainly thought the mark wasn't high enough to be visible.

"Tell Lynn that she needs to lay-off the love bites, babe." chuckled Danny as he tore open another packet of sugar to dump into into a mug that now held what most would consider coffee-flavored syrup.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to do that." replied Steve, trying to stave off his much too nosy partner until the caffeine kicked in and he could come up with something better. Right now his brain, along with the rest of him, felt like mush. If he denied it was his girlfriend who'd left the marks, it would be like chumming the waters; the guy would be on it like a tiger shark. He hadn't told Danny that Lynn was out of town so, for now, he'll let her take the hit.

Hoping to put an end the inquisition, he said irritably, "Don't you have work to do? I know the Governor is expecting us to be prepared for that meeting this afternoon."

"Yeah, yeah." replied Danny. Then with a dismissive wave he took his cup and turned to walk toward his office before stopping and turning once again to his partner. "Just be sure you cover that up, babe. It's a little junior high. Maybe you can borrow some make-up from Kono." Then before Steve could reply, he corrected his suggestion, "Naw, wrong shade for you. Oh, I know! he exclaimed. "Sheila in Accounting is closer to your skin tone. Maybe she's got something you could use."

Then the diminutive detective spun on his heel and resumed his trek down the hallway, his laughter trailing behind him as his partner's 'skin tone' took on a decidedly more reddish hue. The wheels in his mind continued to turn as he reached his office and plopped into his chair. _Something __i__sn't right. Perhaps this calls for further investigation?_

**. . . . . . .**

  


It had been a clean head shot. While death by gunfire is usually fairly messy, this time there was very little blood and only a small neat hole in the head of the CEO of Capwell Construction. The guy was beyond help or caring but the woman who'd found the body needed a truckload of Kleenex and a seriously large hit of Xanax.

"He was such a nice man!" she wailed as they waited for her to calm down. Steve, at the end of his patience, looked at Danny with a 'Could you __please__ do something to get her stop crying' expression. He rolled his eyes then walked back to the other side of the ME's van where Max was busily examining the body.

CSI's were crawling all over the parking garage now and the governor had already called to light a fire under the investigation. The man who'd been killed was pretty high profile; his millionaire status gaining him friends among the higher economic echelon of the island.

"Found something!" called down one of the crime scene techs who'd leaned over the railing a couple levels above.

"Be right up to take a look!" Steve called out in answer before jogging up the spiral ramp to see what the technician was so excited about.

"Maybe someone used this spot to rest a weapon on?" asked SCI John Pepeekeo who was of course called 'PP', (or sometimes peepee), by his coworkers. He pointed toward what looked like scuff marks on the metal railing.

Though not winded from his uphill run, Steve's head pounded as he bent to more closely examine the faint scratches. _Maybe getting hammered then staying awake for almost forty-eight hours wasn't such a good idea_.

"Looks like someone screwed down a spotting scope here. Good eye, PP", said Steve, "I know I don't have to tell you what to look for but tell the lab to get back to Five-0 right away with anything you guys come up with. The Governor's already breathing down our necks on this one." Pepeekeo nodded and returned to diligently scouring the area for evidence.

Steve squinted at the activity two levels below. There were many things in the way of a direct sight-line to the target: beams, columns, railings, vehicles, etcetera. Whoever fired from here knew what they were doing. To get a clear shot, they'd have to wait for that one split second when the victim was visible between two concrete pillars on his way toward the elevator.

"Hey!" Danny's voice echoed up from below. "You comin'?"

They needed to interview the victim's coworkers to see who may have had a grudge against him but Steve already knew from what he'd seen that this had to be a professional hit. That certainly didn't bode well. As he jogged back down the ramp, he searched his pockets for some aspirin.

  



	3. Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens and Danny is more suspicious than ever that his partner is up to something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would like to know what you think of this tale so far. I'm trying to edit out what didn't work the first time around to make it a better story. Like Mae West said about the mirrors on her bedroom ceiling, "I like to know how I'm doin'."

After learning his name she'd done some some poking around online and was more than a little surprised to find that the man with whom she'd been dallying isn't just your everyday cop but the leader of the Governor of Hawaii's Special Task Force and, from all accounts, a total badass. She'd suspected as much – the badass part anyway. She'd seen his type before; all hard edges and coiled energy linked with a feral wariness indicating mistrust of the world in general.

It's pretty much how she herself rolls. She'd already learned the hard way that no one was to be trusted.

'Les gens sont des ostie de pourris' or '_People are just no damned good.' _Those bitter words were unfailingly dispensed in the wake of her mother's abandonment by yet another of her revolving door of lovers. Maman had been a very needy woman.

Since then, years of her own travails had reinforced her mother's lament - _people aren't any good._

Now, as hard and cynical as her profession dictates, she's excellent at what she does and is paid accordingly. Emotional encumbrances are to be avoided at all costs. It's a trade-off but the right one for her. Those who employ her know that the work will be done without qualms and to their specifications and that it will never be traced back to the one who'd paid for it. Marie Roux always keeps her word. It’s perhaps her only remaining virtue.

Bored with her task, she closes her eyes to once again picture the hazel-eyed, dark-haired sailor. Her fingertips unconsciously move across the surface of a fabric covered thigh as though outlining the ridges and hollows of an exquisitely muscled body. Then pulling herself from the thought she sighs aloud and opens her eyes to get back to her task. _This thing won't sharpen itself._

She'd become much too distracted. This unwise involvement with Hawaii's premier officer of the law has all the potential for disaster but she can't seem to help herself.

_Okay, so the man is a cop but I'm damned good at what I do. Though it's a bit different with this one, I've been in similar situations and no one has ever discovered how I make my living. Well, there was that one guy . . . Too bad about him but it was necessary. There's no way I'm going to be locked-up again. Those prison guards . . . S_he shudders at the memory before once again pulling herself back to the present.

She smiles as she tests the edge of the blade with her thumb. _Perhaps I can use this situation to my advantage. Certainly it would be interesting, no?_

**. . . . . . .**

After a long, hot, sticky day in paradise, Five-0's dynamic duo had come up with zilch. According to the employees of Capwell Construction, Bernard Sanderson had been a saint; honest and hardworking. In the ruthless world of the industry's fat cats, the man was the very paragon of rectitude that no one could possibly have wanted dead.

Uh huh.

What didn't help matters is that during interviews Steve had been sharp and abrupt with several of those questioned. Patience had never been one of his virtues but he usually exhibited a bit more of it when interacting with the public. His partner's job this day, in addition to detecting, is apparently to run interference between Five-0's leader and pretty much anyone they ran across during the investigation.

It hadn't been easy. By the time they parted ways for the evening, Danny had had it up to here with one Commander Steven J. McGarrett of the Governor of Hawaii's Special Task Force. Grateful they'd knocked off early enough to allow him to stop by Rachel's to see his kids before they were asleep for the night, he made sure Steve knew that the only thing that prevented him from strangling 'someone' was because he'd then be delayed by the paperwork resulting from yet another homicide.

They pulled into the lot at the Palace just as the sky was offering up a display of molten oranges and reds. The air had only marginally cooled but the sun was finally surrendering to night and the image of a bright orb sinking into a blazing cauldron seemed appropriate.

Steve tossed his still seated partner the keys and emerged from the Camaro, but rather than walking away, he continued to stand by the open driver's door as though he wanted to say something. Silent seconds ticked by but it seems the moment had passed. With a wordless shrug and a shake of his head he pushed the door shut and strode toward his truck parked a few slots away. As he walked he pulled his cell from his pocket and punched in a number.

Danny watched him for a moment then snorted in frustration. He shook his head as he got out of the car to walk around to the driver's side. He jerked open the door and slipped into the seat; adjusting it forward before he turned the key. Slamming the Camaro into gear he roared off faster than usual.

**. . . . . . .**

The sodden breeze blowing through the doors open to the balcony did little to dry the sweat glistening on their tangled bodies as they lay gasping to restore depleted oxygen.

"You are gonna kill me." he chuckled breathlessly as he rolled onto his back to wait for his pulse to slow.

"Yeah, but can you think of a better way to go?" she replied; her own frantic heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

Their room faced the ocean and wasn't all that high up. The sound of waves booming onto the shore below, along with the barely discernible tinkle of ukulele music from the hotel's seaside lounge, drifted in on the heavy night air. Lulled by the sounds, several minutes passed as they lay half-dozing.

She rolled toward him. There was enough light to make out the tat she'd found so intriguing at their first assignation. She kissed the design inked onto his shoulder, tasting salt as her lips lingered there. He shuddered as her tongue began to trace the intricate lines.

"Okay, now you really _are _trying to kill me." Turning his head to look into eyes sparkling with mischief he chuckled, "You are so bad."

"No worse than you." she smiled, white teeth visible in the dim light. "Besides, I seem to recall that this 'intent to kill' was mutual. You know that saying about two wrongs making a right? Well, in this case," she said, voice lowering to a husky purr as she began to nip along his neck, "two bads make a good." She shifted and slid upward on his body, her nipples scraping sensuously across the coarse hair of his chest.

In a display of dominance, rolling so that he lay atop her, he murmured against her heated skin, "Two bads make it fuckin' spectacular." Then he claimed her mouth once again.

**. . . . . . .**

"You still look like crap." pronounced Danny as his friend strode into the office.

"Thanks." replied Steve, pausing only to roll his eyes before moving off down the hallway.

He wasn't as late as yesterday but it still wasn't the usual time he arrived to begin his work day.

Continuing to ignore his partner, Five-0's leader strode to the break room. Said partner, persistent as always, followed him.

"Did you even get any sleep?" he asked as the two stood in the compact room that held the magic coffee maker in addition to a fridge, microwave, and small table.

"Yeah, some."

"How much is some?"

"Enough for me if not for you, Sleeping Beauty. What's with the third degree?" grumbled Five-0's leader.

"I need to know if I'm going to be working with a zombie today. If you're gonna be half asleep then I'll have to take extra measures."

"_What_ extra measures?", demanded Steve before he turned to rummage through the cupboard over the coffee machine. Finding a mug that didn't belong to anyone in particular he snatched it up then peevishly grabbed the stainless steel carafe to pour himself some Maui blend. Adding cream, he took a sip then set the cup on the counter. Scowl firmly in place he pivoted toward Danny and with a rise of his brow signaled he awaited an answer.

Ready with his answer the blonde detective said, "Extra measures like making sure my partner doesn't fall asleep in his food, making sure we have a pillow and blankie if we go on stake-out and, of course, I may have to drive."

"Like hell."

"Look, Rambo, l don't want to meet my maker because you wrapped the car around one of those stupid banyan trees when you nodded off in the middle of a car chase."

"I'm not gonna . . .", began Steve before abandoning the sentence to snap, "Just drop it, Danny. I'm not in the mood for your crap today!"

There wasn't any real heat behind it but it was unusual for Steve to be so grumpy this early. It usually took a few minutes before the day's circumstances conspired to ruin his 'sunny' disposition. Realizing there was nothing to be gained by pursuing the issue, Danny bit his tongue and changed the subject. Steve hadn't brought it up so he asked, "Did Max ever get hold of you? He said he'd tried to but there was no answer when he called."

"Umm, no. Well I didn't get the message if he left one. My phone died."

"What? You destroy another one or did the battery croak?"

"I, umm, I misplaced the charger."

Danny frowned. This was totally unlike Mr. If-You-Aren't-Prepared-It-Could-Get-You-Killed McGarrett.

Little did the detective know that Steve was kicking himself for screwing-up. He'd turned off his phone last night and, in his haste to get ready for work, had forgotten to power it back on. He couldn't remember ever having done that before. He'd have to be more careful . . . and Danny needed to give it a rest.

"So, rather than harass me about my damned phone, why don't you just tell me what Max said." said Steve in exasperation.

"He said the slug was a 22-250 caliber." calmly replied the detective knowing that _not_ reacting to his partner's foul mood would be ever so much more annoying. "That's a little small for a sniper rifle isn't it?" he added.

After a puzzled frown at his partner’s lack of follow-up to his prying Steve became all business.

"Yeah, it's a smaller caliber but it'll kill you just as dead. And, no, it's not the usual sniper set-up. The Brits and the Aussies use 22-250's to lessen excessive penetration and ricochets. A round doesn't usually punch all the way through a head or body. It's what you use when you don't want to make a big mess. You have to hit your target in just the right spot for a kill-shot though. Takes some major skill."

Danny had always been taken aback by his friend's nonchalant description of mayhem but it's what Steve had been trained for; part of the skill-set for which he was valued when deployed. Despite knowing his friend's background, these small glimpses into what had been his partner's life before Five-0 could be unsettling.

"So, our sniper is quite the expert." said Chin who'd entered the break room to get his own cup of liquid heaven. Searching through the cupboard to find his favorite, he pulled out the red mug that no one else ever used. The team knew of its significance; Chin's late wife had given it to him.

"There aren't many who could make that shot, especially using that kind of ammo." replied Steve. "It takes training along with natural talent."

"It's something to work with." said Chin, "That kind of marksmanship is rare."

Caffeine supply now in hand, the three repaired to the main room, joining Kono and Lou who were already standing at the smart table.

After a brief discussion regarding the caliber of ammunition used, Steve ordered, "To save time we'll split up the search. Kono, you start looking through Interpol's database for known mechanics who use 22-250 ammo in their sniper kits. Chin can check into the domestic data bases while you're doing that. Lou, you check with the gun shops to see if they've sold any ammo of that caliber lately. It's popular with hunters of small game so you'll probably be busy running down any names they come up with. If you need help, ask Duke to loan you someone, maybe Pua."

The three nodded to acknowledge their orders. With Jerry being away for a couple of weeks for computer forensics classes on the mainland, everyone had to pitch-in on the assignments usually given to their resident conspiracy theorist. As they started to walk away to begin their tasks, Steve asked, "Has Denning called?"

"Not yet . . ." answered Chin.

As if by prearrangement, Danny's phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, smirked, then turned its screen toward Steve, "Speak of the devil." he sing-songed. The device identified the caller as the chief official of the great state of Hawaii. He cleared his throat then thumbed the 'accept' icon, "Detective Williams." he answered as Steve stood next to him brow furrowed in anticipation of the most likely topic of the call.

"Yes sir. We've got some additional information that could be of help." Then rolling his eyes at his partner he said, "I just heard from him. He called from a landline because his phone is on the fritz. He stopped by the ME's office on the way in. Yes sir, I'll have him call you as soon as he gets here."

With that, Danny hit 'end' and said to the man standing before him. "You owe me."

**. . . . . . .**

Three more days had passed and the only advance in the case had come in the form of a name, or rather a nickname, found in Interpol's database. There _is _someone who'd made a habit of offing people with smaller caliber bullets than the usual used in sniper rifles. At least twelve kills had been confirmed as well as there being several other suspected victims of the same shooter. Most of the victims had been international business types or politicians. The last hit had been in California. Whoever had done the work was brilliant at not leaving any clues other than the bullet itself. That the local CSI's had even found scuff marks was evidence of their thoroughness or perhaps just a miracle.

"So this Eidolon might be who we're looking for." said Chin as all nodded in confirmation.

"What the hell is an eidolon?" asked Danny whose vocabulary had never before been found wanting unless it was for words in Hawaiian.

"It's from ancient Greek literature."answered Steve, "It means spirit or ghost."

All four teammates stared at their leader nonplussed. Steve could sometimes come up with such random information. None of them knew him fully; not even his best friend who would occasionally accuse him of bordering on the pedantic.

As the others stared, "What?" asked Five-0's leader. When he got no answer huffed dismissively then said, "Someone must have profited from this guy's death. We've gotta get back out there and find out who."

"Considering we have nothing else to go on other than knowing the caliber of the bullet that killed him, I'd say that's the only way to go." agreed Danny. "Successful business types can accrue a lot of enemies."

"Looks like we've got a lot of legwork to do." sighed Kono, resigning herself to braving the heat and humidity that had plagued the islands for the last several days. It was pretty much always humid here but it had been particularly ferocious of late. Forecasters blamed it on the approaching storm that was slowly growing to hurricane status.

"You guys stay here and let your fingers do the walking while Danny and I go interview the victim's employees and associates again. The motive for wanting the guy dead has gotta be love, money, or power."

"Sex, you forgot about sex." sourly interjected Danny who was so not looking forward to driving around in this weather, AC or not.

"I think that's covered under the 'love' part." answered Steve.

"Nope, not even close, babe. Two different animals entirely."

**. . . . . . .**

She wasn't supposed to be back to Honolulu for another week yet. She hadn't called him; her phone had died and her charger was still in the bag that, due to an airline snafu, hadn't arrived on the same flight as its owner. It shouldn't be a problem just dropping in unannounced even though it was nearly eleven PM.

Their relationship was confirmed. But while exclusive, it still had a sort of distance to it. They hadn't even exchanged keys. That was fine for now but she really wants to see if they can take it further.

_What's not to like? __S_he smiled to herself as she turned the Jeep onto Piikoi Street. Her handsome boyfriend is smart, funny, kind, and definitely knows what he's doing in the bedroom. Even though she felt Steve wasn't 'all-in' emotionally, perhaps it was just too early in their relationship. They had time. She's certainly willing to make the effort to get to the next level.

Nearing the rambling two-story she can see that his truck is there but there are no lights on in the house. Steve's usually still up at this hour; he doesn't seem to need much sleep. Maybe he had a hard day and turned in early? He'd sounded tired when they spoke briefly on the phone a couple of days ago.

She pulled in next to the big blue Silverado. He'd told her once that Danny teases him about the gigantic truck; comparing him to those guys who drive excessively large and expensive vehicles as overcompensation for their shortcomings. _Certainly nothing to worry about in that department__, _she smirked as she shut off the engine.

She could almost feel warm lips nibbling a line down her neck as her skin tingled in anticipation. _I'll make it worth it to him if I wake him up_, she thought as she emerged from the Jeep to make her way through the small gate under the wooden arch adorned by flowering vines.

The pathway to the porch was lit only by a couple of dim solar lights but she'd know her way even in complete darkness. He was sure going to be surprised to see her.


	4. Wrestling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A compromising situation. Steve has a chat with Danny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be much appreciated.

Growling in annoyance, he untangled himself from his companion and rolled out of bed to search the floor for something to put on.

Whoever's pounding on the door isn't going away. Danny would have entered by now and would be calling up the stairs to get him to come down. After an embarrassing incident when Catherine had still been here, he'd learned to not just walk-in.

With an apologetic look toward Marie whose dark eyes danced with merriment as she lay invitingly reclined ala The Naked Maja, he slipped into his pants; pulling them up as he moved to the bedroom door. The insistent knocking continued as he descended the stairs.

"Alright already! I'm coming!" he called out to whoever was making the racket. Chances are that anyone who meant harm wouldn't be pounding away on his door – even at this hour.

Fastening the button at his waistband with one hand, he reached for the handle with the other. "This better be important." he muttered as he pulled the door open.

"Steve!" The light from the old fixture mounted high-up next to the door frame cast her face in shadow but the grin on it wasn't hidden.

_Oh crap!_

She launched herself at him as he put his hands up just in time to fend her off. "Whoa!" he exclaimed.

She was startled by his reaction and seeing the hurt look on her face, he hastily explained, "I'm sorry, Lynn. It's _not _that I'm not happy to see you but it's hot and I've been working out so I'm disgustingly sweaty. Hugging me right now would be pretty gross for you."

Her disconcerted expression turned come-hither as she replied, "Thanks for the warning but I've been all 'sweaty' with you before. Actually, since it's been awhile, way too long in fact, I think getting all sweaty together might be fun, don’t you think so?”

While she gazed at him through her lashes he hoped the alarm he was feeling didn't show. _How the fuck am I going to get out of this one? _he thought in desperation. _This is bad. This is very, very, bad._

"Well, um, why don't I get cleaned up then we can catch-up with one another? There's a new all-night coffee shop around the corner that I've been wanting to try. We can get something to eat while you tell me all about your trip."

She frowned; her look of seduction turning into one of what was hopefully only mock speculation. Cocking her head and narrowing her eyes she said, "If I didn't know better, I'd think that you've got something to hide, sailor."

"Nope, nothing to hide", he replied; words accompanied by a lopsided grin he hoped was convincing. "Well, except the chocolate that I try to keep out of everyone's paws. I've had to move my stash twice now because you and Danny have apparently figured out where I hide the goods."

"I assure you, Steve, those are not the goods I'm after tonight." she cooed, fingers coyly twirling the ends of her long blonde locks before she broke out in actual giggles.

_Shit, shit, shit! She's not gonna give up! __he_ thought desperately.

"Lynn, why, umm . . . why don't you let me shower first then I'll make up for lost time." he said, though he had no idea from whence would come the energy to follow through on his words.

She grinned suggestively at mention of a shower and, before he could protest, grabbed his hand to pull him toward the stairs. Engaging in a tug of war with her would be a little suspicious to say the least so he reluctantly let himself be towed along by his determined girlfriend.

"No, really." he tried again, "I've gotta um, rest a little. That workout I was in the middle of when you rang the bell just kinda kicked my ass."

"I'm sure we can find a way around the issue." she blithely replied. "I've really missed that ass."

Like a man being led toward the gallows, each step another toward his doom, he trudged up the stairs while thinking, _I've been in combat situations that were less fucking stressful! _Two steps from the bedroom he shut his eyes to concentrate on getting his breathing under control.

"Damn!" he heard as she came to an abrupt stop just inside the doorway; nearly causing him to bump into her.

Eyes flying open, to his amazement, (and indescribable relief), he saw that the room was empty. The bed had been made, discarded clothing was nowhere in sight, and all was in order. Every window, including the French doors leading to the balcony had been opened. Moonlight poured in along with a breeze blowing freely through the room. There was even enough illumination to see the set of weights lying on the floor in front of the closet door.

"You have got to be one of the neatest housekeepers I've ever met!" exclaimed Lynn.

"Wha . . . What?" he stammered.

"Aren't you guys like supposed to make a gigantic mess when there's no woman around to impress?"

Nearly light-headed with relief as he surveyed the room, he couldn't respond.

"You know, said the blonde, "that was a long flight and the humidity here is atrocious . . . well, more atrocious than usual." she prattled on. "In just the twenty minutes or so that it took me to get here from the airport I've become nearly as sweaty as you are. A nice . . . long . . . shower . . . would be just the thing."

With his hand still firmly clutched in hers, she looked coyly over her shoulder while practically dragging him toward the attached bath.

His heart began to hammer once again. There was nowhere else for Marie to hide but the bathroom or maybe, (like in a bad sitcom), under the bed. _Oh God. This is gonna be messy,_ he told himself as he was towed along.

Lynn finally let go of his hand to enter the small room. Steeling himself once more, he followed her in.

And once more he'd gotten a reprieve. In the glow of the small nightlight plugged into the outlet above the wash basin, no woman was revealed to be hiding in the clear glass enclosure. Without bothering to turn on the lights, Lynn eagerly reached into the shower to get it going. The squeak of the faucet handles and the sound of rushing of water must have hidden the din of the mad pounding of his heart. The sound had to be echoing off the tiled walls; audible to anyone within a mile radius.

"Why uh . . . why don't you get under the water while I go get us some towels." he suggested. "I'll join you in a minute."

"Don't be long, Steve. I've got plans for that soap." she grinned as she shimmied out of her jeans.

"Yeah, me too." he grinned. "Soap is good."

Ostensibly rushing to fetch towels, he quickly fled the room. Taking two strides then dropping to his knees on the hardwood floor and sliding to a stop next to the bed he bent to look under it. It was too dark to see anything so he reached up to turn on the lamp that sat on the nightstand. Peering under the bed once again he could see that the space was empty save for a pair of black lace panties and a condom wrapper. He quickly retrieved both and stuffed them into his pocket. _Talk about incriminating evidence._

Hearing a faint laugh, he straightened to look toward the open French doors and saw a flash of movement on the balcony. Jumping to his feet, he rushed toward it but could only watch as Marie threw a long leg over the wooden balustrade and then slipped over it. A half second later he leaned out over the railing to see her recover from her landing. Grinning upward she briefly locked merry eyes on his startled ones then dashed lightly across the yard to disappear through the hedge.

"Steve?" he heard Lynn call from the bathroom.

"Yeah, be right there!" he called back. "I'm umm . . . I'm looking for that body wash you like. I think I stashed an extra bottle somewhere."

"I love that stuff! I hope you got an extra big bottle!" she giggled, "We've got a lot of soaping up to do!"

Rushing out of the room into the hallway, he grabbed up an armful of towels, a bottle of lavender-scented body wash, and a box of emergency candles from the linen closet. _Give me strength_, he prayed as he picked up one more candle. On his way back with the supplies he stopped to turn off the bedside lamp.

He was dismayed to see that Lynn had turned the bathroom light on. Hands full, he used an elbow to flick the switch just inside the door as he entered.

"Hey!" Lynn yelped at the sudden dimness. She was just barely visible through the steamed over shower doors.

"I have plans too." he called back as he set down the things he carried, one of them being a fancy candle that had sat unused since Catherine had left. He knew it was petty but when he struck the match and watched the wick catch flame, there was the tiniest bit of satisfaction that the scented wax would be melting for another woman. "Now, isn't this more romantic for our shower?" he asked in a lowered voice.

With the room now bathed in a flickering glow, she bought it.

**. . . . . . .**

_What a rush! _Marie chuckled to herself once again at the memory of her narrow escape.

It had been close but the consequences wouldn't have been that dire even if she'd been caught: some hysterics, angry words, accusations, tears, (not on her part mind you), but at least no one was going to get shot – today anyway.

She should have just left the room as it was; there'd have been no mistaking what had gone on in there. The bastard is lucky it was she whom he chose to cheat on his lady friend with. Too bad she couldn't hang around a bit longer. Watching him try to explain the circumstances to that messy-haired blonde would have been entertaining.

All in all it had been a good time. Hell, who was she kidding? It had been a great time! She stopped what she was doing to stare distractedly off into space for a moment; contemplating her liaison with the man she'd first met on a pier in San Diego. Yup, the sex had been fantastic. A body like his was made for it.

She wasn't foolish enough to pretend it meant anything other than what it was. The sailor had only been a lovely diversion; nothing more. What she _should _have considered is that a man that attractive wouldn't be unattached. But when she'd done her usual snooping she'd found no photos of anyone who would appear to be a girlfriend.

Along with family pictures that had obviously been taken years ago, there'd been a few newer ones of people in military uniform or civilian friends with their spouses and kids. Some of the adults she recognized from that group at the bar. Maybe he's just a guy who doesn't get into relationships other than for the convenience of having someone with whom to let off a little steam? She could relate.

Sex should _always_ be just a physical thing. Long ago she'd learned to use her body as a form of payment - flesh in trade for whatever she needed to survive. To owe something to someone was to make oneself vulnerable. She couldn't afford vulnerable. Payment of a debt; whether in money or sex meant the transaction was over. Finis. Done with. No complications.

She shook her head; smiling at the irony. When she'd first left home she'd bargained her favors for the necessities: food, lodging, etcetera. Perhaps not all that much has changed. In trade for a tangle in the sheets with the rooms manager at the place in San Diego, she'd secured lodging for which there was normally a wait of several months. The woman had been practically insatiable but it was an excellent deal. That cabin on the pier was lovely.

It still amazed her at what she'd accomplished over the years using only what God had given her. It had gotten her out of Sacré Coeur, anyway. There were no secrets in a town that small.

Still, the time spent with the handsome sailor had brought up feelings she'd be better off without. It was distressing to be reminded of something in herself she'd never managed to completely quell; that remaining bit of humanity that left her feeling exposed and had nothing to do with being naked in a room with a total stranger. In the past, when the need couldn't be stifled she'd find someone and pretend – for just a night – that she wasn't a soulless, destroyer of the living.

After another brief moment of reflection, her wallow in self-pity over, she hummed happily to herself as she went about her preparations for the next one.

**. . . . . . .**

He knew he'd been more than lucky. Even though he worn no shirt when answering the door, it had been dim enough that Lynn hadn't spotted the evidence left on his skin during his romps with Marie. He could have explained the bruises by saying they'd been acquired during a takedown or something but those bite marks . . .

He was nothing if not someone who could think on his feet. When he'd gone to get the shower stuff, he'd also snatched up that box of emergency candles he kept in the linen closet. As she was toweling her hair, he'd told her that he wanted to 'continue the mood' and had placed the utilitarian candles on improvised holders, (saucers), here and there in the bedroom - not too many though. The room needed to be dim enough so that Lynn wouldn't spot the marks that would have been hard to explain away and that would surely have meant a cataclysmic end to their relationship.

This morning he'd slipped quietly out of bed and left while she was still sleeping. Before leaving he'd paused to gaze down at her peaceful face and wildly disarrayed hair. Perhaps it was only his ego but he thought she looked content.

All-in-all, he thought he'd done okay with the situation – except for causing it in the first place.

But, rather than congratulate himself for pulling off the deception, it disturbed him that his faithlessness hadn't been all that difficult to hide – that he'd been so good at it. Certainly he had no qualms at using this skill at duplicity to resolve major conflicts or even minor annoyances at work but it bothered him that he'd duped someone who cared for him.

A guilty conscience can be a bitch sometimes.

**. . . . . . .**

"Jeeze, Steven. You look even worse than yesterday! What the hell are you doing in your off hours; wrestling grizzlies?"

Danny had accosted him before he'd even been able to get a cup of coffee.

"Wrestling maybe - just not grizzlies." was his tired reply while thinking. _I must look the way I feel_. During his marathon athletics last night, he'd may have pulled something. His aching back barely allowed him to bend far enough to tie the laces on his boots this morning. He'd used practically every trick in his book to make sure that Lynn had a 'memorable' homecoming. Now, he just needed a month to recuperate.

Danny, eyes narrowed, stood evaluating his friend. The guy has to be burning the candle at both ends to look like that.

With one eyebrow cocked, the astute detective asked, "You wanna elaborate on the wrestling?"

Steve looked at him lips pursed as though contemplating a dilemma. Finally, he sighed then said, "I gotta talk to you about a um, problem."

"That sounds like the lead-in to a deodorant commercial or maybe one for those little blue pills." quipped the detective who, behind the snark, was actually a little startled. Other than occasionally discussing Doris, his friend was pretty close-mouthed about anything troubling him.

"You know that woman at the bar the other night? The one that you said distracted me?"

"You mean the one who 'piqued your interest' at the restaurant's lounge?" asked Danny with a smirk abetted by actual hand quotes. "Yeah, she was quite the looker; in a sort of Cate Blanchett/Xena Warrior Princess kinda way."

"Yeah. Yeah, she is."

Just by those words, Danny knew that Steve was involved with her. No wonder he'd looked so thrashed. The tall raven-haired woman looked to be in excellent athletic condition. But Steve is already exclusive with Lynn and, as far as he knows, they're still together. _Now_, things are starting to make sense . . . unfortunately. It looks as though the man who'd never strayed during a year's-long previous relationship was now stepping out on his current squeeze.

Steve ushered his friend into his office and closed the door behind him. Danny settled himself onto a chair while his partner leaned back against the front edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"I've been . . . I've been seeing her for the last few days. She's here for a job of some sort and she was looking for . . . distraction. She, I mean _we_, found one."

"So, you mean you've been, as our demure little Kono would say, hittin' that?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you were still with Lynn." frowned Danny.

"Yeah."

The detective sat in silence for a moment before clearing his throat. "I have to say that I'm a little surprised, babe. You've never been someone - that I know of at least - whose gone outside the uh . . . bounds of a relationship."

"You don't mean surprised, you mean disappointed." sighed Steve, turning his head to look out the window rather than at his partner. Clouds are beginning to form. Perhaps the storm the forecasters said had veered off had turned once again and was heading in their direction.

"Well, that too I guess. But, hey, I'm no one to talk. Rachel and I . . ."

"That was different." said Steve with a dismissive gesture. He turned his head, looking Danny in the eye before looking downward and saying. "Lynn's been out of town but she came back unexpectedly last night."

"You mean . . .?"

"It was, um, awkward." he admitted with a sigh.

"You mean she showed up while you and this other woman were . . .?"

"Yeah." Steve's face actually seemed to color.

"Oh shit! You mean she walked in while you were . . . you know?"

"No! I mean, yes . . . I mean . . ." Steve paused, obviously frustrated with the situation he'd found himself in, (or created).

"Wow." was the only comment the detective could come up with.

"I think I fucked up, D."

  
  



End file.
